


The word and the deed

by AnnaBolena



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: 'Privateeeeering CALEB', AYY, BeAN TALLMADGE HAS GROWN UP CALEB, Ben the little shit, Everybody is gay, GET IT, His ass is licensed by congress, M/M, My ass isn't licensed tho, Ryder was dope af lol, badly disguised porn, gay revolutionaries 4evs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14408175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaBolena/pseuds/AnnaBolena
Summary: Caleb sent word ahead that he would be making port here soon, but he didn’t expect Ben to show up to welcome him. “Well-read woman, eh Caleb?” Ryder elbows him in the side. “That’s all well and good, Brewster, but if it were up to me I’d focus on harpooning that little target.”a.k.a Ben is the well-read woman in New Haven and Caleb may not know Greek, Latin or Hebrew, but he does have good words too, you know?





	The word and the deed

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I really wanted to capture pre-war Ben in this, because like, historically, he got up to a lot of mischievious shit at Yale and in the show he is already serious!Ben, so like, here u go. Like think of Ben in like episode 2x04 when he laughs at Abe for LITERALLY BRINGING A KNIFE TO A GUNFIGHT LOL 'what the hell is that'-Ben is a little asshole and I want more of that  
> I mean don't get me wrong ultimately he is the sweetest but u know :D

__

Caleb never thought twice about joining the whaleboat crew when he was nineteen. His parents were dead, his sisters well taken care of by their uncle and taking care of him in return, getting him through the sometimes crippling pain of the disease that will one day catch up to Caleb as well. He is sure of it. Nothing he has done in this life would give the man in the clouds pause in regards to his fate. 

Might as well make some coin doing what he loves, he thought, and if he dies at least it will be quicker than the damned palsy. And financial stability is a tempting prospect. He didn't think about who he was leaving behind, not enough anyway. Not enough to stay. 

And the crew becomes a new sort of family for him. You can't help but forge bonds while trying to prevent a short dive into certain death day after day. Every night the men sit with one another, exchanging bawdy stories of their adventures on land, anything to distract from the fact that it has been too long for every single one of them since they stepped foot on solid ground. Caleb loves it, even if it takes some getting used to just how crass their language is. 

Sure, he writes home whenever he can. That is how he finds out from his oldest friend Sammy that his little brother has been accepted into _Yale_ , of all places. And it makes sense, Caleb decides. Where else would Benjamin Tallmadge have gone? He was always destined for more than their sleepy little inlet, just as Caleb was. Only, Caleb thinks mirthlessly, he was destined to see the world, and the world was destined to see Ben. 

It is an impulsive decision when he posts a letter to Ben the next time they make port. He hopes it gives the young man enough of a warning. 

+

Rolling into a familiar port after months away at sea is equally comforting and disturbing in the way it grounds you. Being away at sea equates to a license to freely do whatever one pleases, as long as it doesn’t interfere with the crew’s plan to hunt down a whale or two. Caleb feels the sun on his face, turning his face upwards to soak it up some more. “Is there someone special in New Haven Caleb?” His Captain, a trade-aged man named Ryder with long white hair and sagging, sea-roughened skin, asks him with a sly smile deepening the lines around his mouth.

Ryder is a whole class for himself, Caleb has found out. Sometimes it seems to Caleb that the man has made it his personal plan to tick off a box on every single sin the bible condemns. He's certainly roped Haxon into his little plan, if the marks on the younger man's neck are anything to go by. 

Not to mention that Caleb is fairly certain that Ryder has committed a murder or two, but what does that count for, out at sea? Considering the rest of the crew, Caleb is fairly certain his vest is the cleanest and isn't that just the most absurd thing in the world? He's spent all of yesterday trying fruitlessly to scrub some of the stains out of his least worn out shirt after using the water to clean himself as best as he could. It didn't come to much and Caleb really just thought he was destroying the fabric further. Ryder had watched him suspiciously for a while and Caleb hadn't missed the drag of his eyes up his exposed body. 

He'd given up trying to figure out why Caleb was so anxious to clean himself up _for once_. Instead he had tossed one of Haxon's finer shirts at him, told him not to soil it and be done with it. If Caleb had thought or perhaps prayed that he would have forgotten about his desperate quest to look presentable, now comes the inevitable disappointment. 

“A well-read woman or two, perhaps,” Caleb grins, unwilling to disclose who really waits for him here. How disappointed would an experienced tail-chaser such as Ryder be if he were to find out that Caleb asked to be dropped off here to visit his best friend's younger brother? And really, Ryder would probably roll his eyes and laugh at him for worrying about his appearance when meeting a _boy_. Not that Haxon is that much older than Ben, right. _God_ , how old is Ben now, anyway? Can he still consider Ben a boy? What does Ben even look like now? It has been five years at least.

He hasn’t seen Ben since he went off to play with the big boys at Yale. Caleb isn’t even sure he will recognize him. What will he look for? He vaguely remembers soft blue eyes and honey-blonde hair, falling too long into Ben's young face. Gangly, he was at twelve, limbs too large for the rest of his body, already taller than most boys his age. 

“Looks like someone came to pick you up,” Ryder laughs, nodding towards a tall figure, waving with his black hat in hand. Caleb squints his eyes, trying to make out a face. Could that possibly be Ben? Caleb sent word ahead that he would be making port here soon, but he didn’t expect Ben to show up to welcome him. He wasn’t even sure Ben ever got the letter.

“Well-read woman, eh Caleb?” Ryder elbows him in the side. “That’s all well and good, Brewster, but if it were up to me I’d focus on harpooning that little target.” Redness shoots into Caleb’s cheeks. It is, unfortunately, not lost on his captain. 

The older man wheezes as he laughs his throat raw. “We’ll come by in three days to pick you back up, be ready,” Ryder bids him goodbye.  “Don't break your cock off in him, we need you back in business.”

Caleb hops off the boat and back into Ben’s life.

 

“It can’t be. The famous Bennyboy Tallmadge came by personally to welcome me?” He teases as he steps close enough to recognize the boy he knew back home, by squinting. Only Ben isn’t a boy anymore. Ben is a man, taller than him by far and quite possibly the handsomest creature on god’s green earth. When he smiles Caleb revisits his previous statements and concurs that when Ben smiles it is positively blinding. And Caleb is utterly _fucked_. 

“Christ on a pony, Ben, tell me you have an extra toe that I never knew about. This perfection in front of me is dangerously close to blasphemy.”

Ben blushes, a lovely pink color, and rolls his eyes as he draws him into a firm hug. “Caleb Brewster, it is good to see you.” Gods above, Ben's voice. He hasn't heard him speak since he was a boy, squeaky and overexcited and now Ben's voice is deep and strong and somehow still the softest thing in this world. 

After a while he adds, “What little I can see of you, that is, through the thicket you have cultivated on your face.” Ben observes his friend, one hand reaching out to pat his cheek probingly, and feels his pulse pound against his neck. The other hand is still hovering somewhere on Caleb's arm in the aftermath of their embrace. The beard suits Caleb and for a split-second Ben wonders what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He dismisses that thought just as quickly. 

“The ladies like it, my friend, what can I say.” Caleb laughs loudly enough to draw attention from passing strangers. “Not that you’d know, of course. You’re as baby-faced as ever.” He reaches up to pinch Ben’s cheek, grinning when the latter swats his hand away in protest.

“I shaved not two hours ago. Don’t know why I bothered to clean up for your ungrateful ass,” Ben laughs. His voice is light and teasing and it pleases Caleb immensely to be able to talk with him as an equal. Obviously he isn't just Sammy's little brother anymore, but Caleb had been a bit apprehensive. There is nothing wrong with getting your education on the stormy waters of the Atlantic, Caleb knows that. But still he feared he might feel inadequate, compared to the boy described by their whole village as the brightest kid on Long Island. 

Just like that they have fallen back into the easy camaraderie of their earlier days, albeit with the added knowledge that their thoughts are less pure now than they were then. Because Caleb has to put a lot of effort into not staring and Ben has given up on not staring already, shamelessly raking his eyes over Caleb's beard and body.

“I’m touched, Tallboy,” Caleb revives an old nickname. Troubled, would describe his state of mind more adequately because now he is imagining running his fingers not just through Ben's now both darker and longer hair, but also through stubble as he pulls Ben closer to him-

They've got three days. Maybe he can convince Ben not to shave and see- but no, that's not a good idea, if he is trying to abstain. 

“Truthfully you can’t call me so anymore, at least not in jest. I’m a good foot taller than you now, my friend.”

“Yeah?” Caleb wonders, squinting up at Ben.  "Yeah," Ben responds, amused. 

“You’re not taller where it matters, I’d bet.”

Ben doesn’t have an answer for that. His mind is too busy stopping himself from blurting out something like _‘Would you care to test that theory?’_ He can only imagine the look of shocked disgust on Caleb’s face that would be replaced by a strong conviction that Ben only said it to tease him a mere second after. Instead of embarrassing himself then and there, Ben decides to usher Caleb to the nearest tavern. 

+

When one drink later turns into several drinks too many it leaves Caleb and Ben steadying one another as they stumble back to Ben’s lodgings. Caleb's hand is tangled in Ben's waistcoat, holding on for dear life as he tries to ignore Ryder's voice, playing on repeat in his mind.  _Harpooning._ Disgusting. 

 "Caleb," Ben says, voice torn between amusement and apprehension. They have stopped outside of his door, Caleb accidentally crowding Ben against the unyielding wood. Well, the Sam Adams is to blame for that, he supposes. Not the longing inside of his chest. 

"Yes, Tallboy?" And if his voice is a little slurred as he speaks it might go a long way to convince Ben that his need to touch is borne of intoxication. Really, Caleb has been drunker on casual nights on deck. You need alcohol to drown out the sound of Ryder and his companion. 

"Do you plan on camping here?" Ben's voice is a little husky as he speaks. He ducks his head down a little to pitch his words close to Caleb's ear. 

"Camping?" Caleb squints his eyes up at Ben, trying to make sense of his friend's out of place question. 

"It's just that," Ben bites his lip to stifle a laugh, "Well, Brewster, you seem to have brought a tent." His eyes glance towards his slack meaningfully, then back up towards Caleb's face. Caleb looks down at himself, and promptly bursts out laughing. "Indeed I have," he gets out once the initial shock at Ben's bluntness has worn off. And sure, he could distance himself because if Ben noticed what was going on in his slacks that means he _felt_ it as Caleb pressed against him. It would be the smart thing to back away now. But Ben isn't backing away. In that case, neither will Caleb. 

 _Harpooning,_ Ryder laughs in his head and Caleb tries not to choke. 

"Well, of course it pays to be prepared, Caleb," Ben teases, "But I am more than willing to offer you the bed. You can stow your tent away again."

"Easier said than done," Caleb complains only mildly, too astounded by this grown-up version of Ben who so readily and confidently teases him about a subject that he is sure would have made any good reverend's son blush furiously. It peaks more than just interest, so to speak. His cock twitches in his pants, desperately.

“Perhaps you should go back and try your luck with that serving wench,” Ben suggests, “She seemed amenable to approach.” Ben's hand reaches out to curl against Caleb's cheek and he drags his fingers through Caleb's beard while Caleb can do nothing but _stare_ at him, like an idiot. Is this really happening? “You did grow this out because the ladies like it, right?” The contact is broken and it gives Caleb time to get his thoughts back in order and away from fucking _harpooning_. Thanks, Captain Ryder, for making it _impossible_ to think of that word without choking now. 

“That woman,” Caleb hiccups, “Is a fireship waiting to taint my veins. I find myself inclined to reject your idea.” He leans heavily against Ben's back as he turns around and tries to open the door in his inebriated state. Ben doesn’t stiffen. He pushes back against the contact and Caleb knows he feels his arousal poking him in the thigh. He isn’t running.

“Besides,” Caleb leans in closer, lips devastatingly close to touching the shell of Ben's warm ear, “I didn’t come here to harpoon the first woman that manages to tickle my fancy.” 

Why does that word worm itself out of his mouth? 

“Perhaps you overdid it with the harpooning at sea, hm?” Ben teases, raising one eyebrow carefully as the door finally swings open. And hearing Ben say it so nonchalantly is even worse. They nearly tumble inside, unable to prevent a fall to the floor by clutching each other tightly. Caleb lands on Ben, feels more friction than is good for him in this state and barely, _barely_ chokes down the moan that wants to force its way past his lips. They scramble upright and Caleb regrets the loss of contact more than he can say. 

“Far too few and too far in between,” Caleb slurs a little, looking up at Ben with glassy eyes. Ben’s lips are delightfully moist, the alcohol strong on both their breaths. “How _do_ you manage? All those months at sea must drive you mad. No women for miles either,” Ben teases, rooted in place by the look in Caleb’s eyes.

“Surely you are well-acquainted with the practice of making the bald man cry?”

“You told me a man will go blind if he abuses the practice too much.” Ben leans in closer, still. Their lips are so unbearably close he almost feels a phantom touch of Caleb’s beard. Caleb’s eyes flit down to his lips for a second, then he looks at Ben’s big blue eyes once more. “Perhaps I am already suffering the ill effects of my deviancy,” he muses, “Come closer so that my eyes needn’t strain to observe you.”

A strong hand wraps around Ben’s neck and now their lips do touch, parted and more by accident than anything else. Ben relents first and chases Caleb’s lips, pushing against him until he has him pinned to the door. Caleb shudders, hands busying themselves with untying every bit of fabric that prevents skin on skin contact. The kisses turn more frantic, open-mouthed and wet enough to make Caleb want to drown in them. Ben’s kisses are dangerous, pulling him down to depths he can never possibly hope to rise out of. If he lets this happen he is lost, gone forever, dragged to his death by lips that have no business being so soft, so full, so inviting. Tallboy’s fingers are deceivingly nimble, managing to work open Caleb’s stiff leather waistcoat quickly even as Ben’s mind is hazy with lust.

“Caleb, I want you,” Ben whispers against Caleb’s exposed neck, nipping and sucking deliciously. Caleb groans, grabbing Ben’s well-defined backside to pull him close. Their hips grind together, both men feel the friction keenly. Ben almost rips Caleb’s shirt in his enthusiasm to divest him of it, before a last slip of common sense seems to take over. He deposits Caleb's clothes over his desk neatly and then pushes himself back onto him again, mouth attacking his neck. Thank god, that wasn’t even his shirt, he refrains from saying. The words tumble out before he can stop himself. 

“My god, Benny, I've been waiting for you to do that from the second I saw you today. Christ, you have no business being this _good_ -oh, fuck,” he pauses to moan loudly as Ben's hand tugs on his balls, just enough to make him see stars. Gratification is had when Ben exhales warmly against his neck, equally affected by whatever spell they currently seem to be under. 

“Yeah? This is what you want?” Ben whispers into his ear, making Caleb's hips snap forward uncontrollably. 

"Yeah," Caleb manages to get out, out of breath by the way Ben is pressing against him now, rubbing against him shamelessly in what Caleb is sure is an attempt to make him lose his mind completely. "Tell me more, Caleb," Ben's voice is strained as well now. If Caleb hadn't been sure about his enthusiasm before, being presented with, ahem, _hard_ evidence now blows all of his doubts away. "Tell me exactly what you want from me."

The thought that Ben gets off on Caleb's voice crosses his mind for a brief second. Does he? No time like the present to find out. "I want," Caleb starts, clearing his throat when his voice comes out too thick to be properly understood, "I want you on that bed, on your back, Benny, I want to look at you as I-"

He feels Ben smirk against his neck, lips kissing the way up to his ear and trying his damndest not to laugh as he whispers: "As you _harpoon_ me?"

"For fuck's sake," Caleb groans out angrily, now certain that the word will haunt him forever. Ben laughs, at him or at the situation he isn't sure, but he does certainly seem to find some amusement in Caleb's struggle. "Please, Benny, I beg you. I need to burn that word association out of my head."

"I'll try my best," Ben's lips are still quirked up a little enigmatic smile, but they are swollen and look absolutely delicious and if Caleb doesn't find them again within seconds he fears he might just burst. "I've been told I am quite good at making people forget."

"Oh, big talker now, eh? Don't remember that about you," Caleb snorts, steering the two of them towards the bed, where he climbs onto Ben's body. Ben laughs, allowing Caleb to lick into his mouth for a while before he feels the need to retort. "And I don't remember Caleb Brewster having the ability to blush at a mere word, but here we are, grown up and changed." 

"Grown up indeed," Caleb grins, kissing his way down Ben's naked form and marveling. Ben is incredibly responsive, but even more so when Caleb speaks, it seems. Leave it to Benjamin Tallmadge to need verbal stimulation for his complex little mind as well as physical. "I'm still looking for that extra toe, in any case," Caleb teases as he bites the skin of Ben's inner thigh softly. It makes Ben yelp, makes him fist a hand in Caleb's hand and tug and _oh god_ -

"Fuck I knew your beard would feel good right there."

"Can't believe you're this perfect, _Christ, Ben_ ," he mumbles, "And willing to spread yourself for me- god, Ben. You really like hearing me talk, don't you?"

"I've always loved you _and_ your voice, Caleb," Ben manages to grit out when Caleb runs his tongue up his cock, almost reverently, trying to lather every inch of him in spit before he sinks down along the length of him completely. "Even when we were young, though obviously for more innocent reasons then than now."

 Ben is sweating, his forehead is screwed up in concentration and Caleb wonders if he knows just what he confessed right now, or if he is too far gone to really recall. Caleb's heart lurches, the world bursts into more vivid color. Or maybe he is just imagining it, but it feels that way. " _God help me, Ben_ ," Caleb chokes out, pulling back, hands firmly on Ben's hips. Ben's eyes open, pupils blown wide and reflecting moonlight, for Christ’s sake. He looks confused, breathing heavily. "Why did you stop?" 

"You can't say that stuff and expect me not to acknowledge it," Caleb runs a hand through his hair, overwhelmed. 

"What did I say?" Ben wonders, brows furrowed together. He really didn't notice then, Caleb raises his eyebrow and dives back in with kisses all around Ben's most sensitive areas. "Never mind that now," he dismisses. And he supposes it could slip out, in the throes of passion. Meaningless, a way of expressing endearment, perhaps. 

"Alright then," Ben chuckles, producing another gut-wrenching moan before speaking again because it seems he wants neither of them to shut up as they do this. "Are you gonna get in me or do I have to wait another five years for that as well?"

That does make Caleb laugh. He hooks his arms under Ben's knees, pulling them over his shoulders and exposing Ben's exquisite hole to his vision. Ben makes a pleased sound of confusion when Caleb kisses it, softly. "What are you doing?"

"Don't tell me no one's ever done this for you, Benny?" Caleb teases. "You seemed so confident earlier, I just assumed-"

"No I have," Ben cuts him off quickly, as if needing to prove that he is, in fact, not a virgin, but then swallows heavily. "But no one has ever, uh, kissed me there."

"Who is blushing now?" 

"Don't you dare tease me, Caleb Brewster, I will break out _the word_ until you scream."

"I'd much rather make you scream with mine," Caleb assures him quickly, and gets to working him open for him, slowly. And Ben likes it. That much becomes evident quickly. Ben does not sound pained when he introduces the first finger. The whole experience is a bit too much for Caleb, at once, but he is determined to see this through, even though he is already so painfully hard that he thinks he might burst the second he gets the first bit of friction. Ben mumbles something, excitedly, but his thighs are so firmly wrapped around Caleb's head that he cannot make it out. 

"What did you say there, dearest?"

"I said," Ben reiterates, cheeks reddened now, "That you can get it in now. Usually two fingers are more than enough."

"I see you already miss the dulcet tones of my sweet voice." Caleb laughs but vows to comply. He shuffles forward, lining himself up with Ben, squeezing a hand around the base of his cock to avoid ending this before it begins. And while he has made sure to use a copious amount of spit, he really isn't sure it will be enough. He tries to push in gently, only an inch or so at first. Both men moan like their souls are being torn from their bodies. "Fuck, Ben, you're perfect. So tight around me, ugh, so fucking perfect." 

Ben reaches for him, pulling him into himself completely and kissing him through the otherworldly experience. Their movements grow more erratic by the second, and Ben actually hisses against his lips when Caleb wraps his fingers around him. The younger man rucks up into him, hands groping everywhere as though somehow he could fuse them into one being if he just closes enough distance. Not that Caleb is complaining. He tries to keep up a constant string of words because he bears witness to the astounding effect they have on Ben. Pressure pricks below his navel too quickly. It has been too long for Caleb, it really isn't surprising, but it is disappointing. He wanted to drag this out longer, he wanted to fuck Ben into the bed all night, he wanted to spend hours worshipping his perfect body-

"We can still do that, we've got days," Ben breathes out, struggling to speak through his constant moans and gasps. Caleb realizes he has spoken aloud and buries his head in Ben's neck, face burning. When was the last time he lost control like this? It's over too quickly. Ben's hand grab his behind and squeeze and just like that Caleb shoots off. He pounds into Ben as he rides his orgasm, trying to chase it, trying to make it last longer, but inevitably collapsing on top of the youngest Tallmadge. 

"Fuck," he exhales into the crook of Ben's neck, who laughs loudly. Ben runs a hand over Caleb's back, rubbing him tenderly as he tries to regain control of his faculties. 

"Oh dear," Ben hums, "I'd been told stamina decreases with age, but that-"

The look of outraged horror on his face makes Ben burst out laughing again, and it is so wonderful that Caleb gets lost in it for a second before he cuts him off. "Don't even think about completing that sentence, Tallboy." 

"No?" Ben grins. "Would you say you've got enough energy left to finish what you started?" 

Caleb does, and he makes it his personal goal to wrench a scream out of Ben's mouth as he spurts into his mouth, some minutes later. Caleb swallows, wipes his mouth, and pulls himself up into Ben's waiting arms. "I do hope for a retraction of your earlier statement now, Mister Tallmadge," he teases, "Because that was definitely some of my finest work, right there."

"And if I don't?" Ben probes, half-heartedly tugging on Caleb's locks. 

"Then you must be wrong in the head, because I know for a fact that I am a _delight_ in bed. On any surface, really. "

"Oh? Is that why you need my validation now?"

"Fuck off," Caleb groans, "I can't win with you, can I? Benny Tallmadge has to have the last word, is that it?" 

He glances at Ben, who pulls him into his arms more tightly, smiling down at him as he does. It isn't malicious, evidently. But it is very clear that Ben enjoys teasing him far too much to stop. There is a dangerous glint in his eyes. They stay intertwined for god knows how long, Ben playing with his hair and drawing patterns into his back, slowly lulling him into what is promising to be the best sleep of his life. 

"Caleb?" He asks into the darkness, just as Caleb is beginning to drift of. He receives a confused but open grunt in response. "Think you'll be up for _harpooning_ me again in the morning?"

"I fucking hate you so much, you evil, terrible man," Caleb groans, throwing himself off of Ben and onto his back. With a laugh, Ben positions himself behind Caleb and wraps his arms around him anew. Caleb tells himself he lets it happen because Ben is soft and warm and that means he can forgive his incessant teasing. 

+

Being woken up by Ben's kisses is nice as well, he realizes very quickly, bathed in sunlight and sprawled naked across Ben's sheets. 

"Good morning," Ben mumbles into his skin as he waits for Caleb to shuffle to face him. 

"Can't believe you look perfect in the morning too," Caleb groans, shutting his eyes. It is true, Ben looks so utterly breathtaking right now that Caleb feels his heart leap watching him. His hair is messy and undone, long strands falling into his face, and a bit of stubble is pushing through the skin on his face. "I'll bet this is a more pleasant sight than what you usually harpoon, mmh?" 

"Ben, please, you're beautiful but I _will_ kill you."

Ben already knows he is joking, smile playing on his lips as he trails his hands over Caleb, as if trying to get a tactile impression of every inch of him. "Incidentally, Caleb," Ben wonders, "How is it that you acquired such distaste for an activity your trade requires of you on the daily?"

"You have quite the wrong impression of whaling if you think we catch a whale per day," Caleb laughs. 

"Are you going to answer the question?" 

"If you must know, it's because, uh, when you picked me up at the wharf, uh, my captain saw you waiting and made quite the lewd comment." Caleb confesses, cheeks reddening. 

"I see," Ben nods, "He was being ironic." 

"Pardon?" Caleb furrows his brows. 

"Using a word to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning," Ben supplies, helpfully, bending down to let his lips replace his wandering hands. 

"Yeah, I guess," Caleb allows himself to forget about Ryder for a few more days. _Ironic_ , he catalogues, he'll remember that word. Maybe it can replace the other word that fills his head. 

+

Ben brings him to port when the time comes for him to leave, and they spend about an hour waiting for Ryder's ship to come into view. "Hey Ben?" He wonders, off-handedly. Ben glances at him, eyebrows raised. "You know something might have slipped out that first night, and I just wanted to tell you that I feel the same."

He watches Ben's face light up in the world's most stunning smile, can read in his eyes that he would dearly like to lean over and plant one on him. "I inferred as much, Caleb, but it is nice to hear anyway. Perhaps, Caleb, that means that next time you find yourself on steady ground you can seek me out and show me the ropes of harpooning you?"

"Ha." Caleb huffs. "You little arsehole. See if I ever make a confession like that again." 

"You've got plenty of time on sea to think of how to best phrase it."

"Let's be honest, Bennyboy, anything I say will knock you out of your boots."

"Now who is the arsehole?" Ben laughs and Caleb has never felt happier. 

That is, until Ryder's knowing eyes land on him. He raises his eyebrows, gesturing for Paxton's shirt back. Caleb suffers the horror of having the entire crew jeer and laugh at the myriad of bruises and marks Ben has left on him over the course of three days. 

"Don't say it." Caleb almost hisses when he sees Ryder moving to make a comment. "Just don't fucking say anything." 

"Sure you still know how to harpoon something other than your little target over there?"

 _God, take me now,_ Caleb looks at the sky pleadingly.  


End file.
